“I’m sorry,” she said, starting to jerk back her hand. He bit back a groan and kept her hand in place. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You’re doing fine,” he grated out. A film of perspiration had broken out on his upper lip.
“Show me,” she said, desperation trumping mortification.
He nodded once but didn’t move. He closed his eyes briefly and then pulled her hand off him.
“Let’s sit down, okay?” he asked her, his voice sounding strained.
She nodded anxiously. He bent and withdrew a large beach towel from his backpack and spread it on a sandy portion of the beach. She saw his small smile as he turned to her. “Are you sure you want to?”
“Yes. Unless you don’t want—”
“You can safely assume I’ll always want to,” he said, cutting her off with a dry glance. She grinned, warmth sweeping thr
ough her. His sexual honesty was just another characteristic about him she loved. It might fluster her, but it somehow freed her too. He took her hand, and she lowered down to the towel. When he came down next to her, his gaze swept over her face.
“Don’t be nervous,” he murmured, reaching for her jaw. He turned her to him and kissed her mouth softly. “It’s like you said earlier. It’s completely natural. Just let it unfold.”
He covered her mouth with his, his taste, his maleness, his very essence filling her. She felt her body quickening. Maybe he was right, she thought as she dug her fingers into his short, thick hair. She felt herself unfolding for him. Blooming.
Her hands made a tour of his form, feverishly stroking his shoulders, chest and ribs. She bunched up the material of his T-shirt and dipped her hand beneath the hem. A thrill went through her at the sensation of his lean, muscular torso and bare skin against her fingertips. His tight abdominal muscles leapt at her touch. He made a rough sound in his throat. Emboldened, she ran her fingertips over his ribs and delved them into the hair on his chest, testing its texture. She found a flat nipple and rubbed it experimentally, arousal tearing through her when she felt the flesh tighten.
He broke their kiss abruptly but kept his lips in contact with hers. His warm breath fell across her mouth, his breathing slightly ragged. This time, she recognized the hard gleam of arousal in his eyes. She’d grown confident in her brief foray into seduction. She stared up at him, their mouths still touching, and wrapped her hand around his cock again.
“Like this?” she whispered, stroking him.
He nodded, their lips sliding together.
“Yeah. That’s great.” The tip of her tongue touched his upper lip as he spoke. She tasted his sweat. His arousal.
“Can I . . . can I put my hand?” Her fingers inched up to the top of his trunks. She felt that fever rising in her body again, like it had the other night on the beach.
“Be my guest,” he said, the tension in his voice tempered by his small smile. “Here . . .”
He drew his T-shirt off with one rapid movement. He flicked the drawstring on his trunks and hooked his thumbs into the waistband. Her hand fell away from his crotch. She watched in amazement as he jerked the trunks down to his upper thighs, his actions striking her as matter-of-fact. He sat there, entirely nude save his swim trunks bunched above his knees.
For a few seconds, she just stared down at his lap. His pelvis and upper thighs were much paler than his ridged, flat abdomen. His erection rested against his belly. It too was pale, giving her the impression of vulnerability and rigid strength combined. A weird kind of fascinated euphoria swept through her.
“Laila?” She glanced up at him dazedly. “You’re kind of giving me that uncomplimentary look again.”
It took her a second to understand what he meant. She recalled how he’d said she’d looked terrified of him when she first saw him at the secret lake, and how he’d joked it wasn’t the most complimentary expression a guy could see.
“No,” she said emphatically. “It’s not that at all.” She wrapped her hand around the shaft of his cock to prove her point. A shudder went through both of them at once, as if they were joined. “You’re so beautiful. I never thought I’d say that about a man,” she said, stroking the length of him. The shaft was long, thick and straight. She mapped it with her fingers. When she traced a vein along the surface with her fingertip, he groaned softly. His skin was warm and soft, but he was so hard underneath.
“Jesus, Laila,” he muttered roughly.
She glanced up. He was watching her as she touched him, his face rigid.
“Like this?” she whispered, running her fist up and down the middle of the shaft.
He nodded.
“Show me,” she insisted. “Show me what you like.”
He grimaced slightly but wrapped his hand just above hers. She watched him, fascinated, as he pumped the top of his cock, twisting his fist slightly around the fat cockhead. A moan slipped out of her throat. It was the most exciting thing she’d ever seen, Asher handling himself so knowingly. She began to move her hand on the bottom portion of the shaft, trying to imitate the pace and movement of his bigger hand. He groaned deep in his throat. His obvious pleasure at their mutual efforts emboldened her. Her fingers ran through his pubic hair. She cupped his testicles gently. He groaned again, more roughly this time, his hand moving faster on the shaft.
“Harder. You can do it harder,” he said.